No Higher Pleasure
by the-spellbound-spirit
Summary: After the Battle at the Ministry of Magic, Lord Voldemort has a revelation - he needs to act if he is to preserve the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, and he has a servant awaiting a reward. Bellatrix/Voldemort, Bellatrix/Rodolphus. Rated M for explicit sexual content.
1. The Gift

_Author's Notes: I have been absent for a long, long time but I'm back with something I hope you will enjoy. I have been re-reading the Harry Potter series recently - and that includes The Cursed Child - and in my depraved little mind, I wondered how exactly Voldemort decided he wanted to have a child. This is how I imagine it happened._

_As it always has been, feel free to review! I hope you enjoy No Higher Pleasure_

He had promised her a reward.

As she approached her master's chambers she felt a wave of giddiness pass over her, almost like she was a young girl once again. Of course, she hadn't physically been young in a long time, and mentally even longer. Azkaban had taken care of that.

A knot tightened inside her as she saw the heavy wooden door that led to her master's chambers before her, down what felt like a never-ending corridor. She tapped softly against the wood, smooth against her pale hand. His voice was barely a whisper, deep within the bowels of the room, yet it sent shivers down her spine. Her legs threatened to go weak for a moment until she placed a hand around the round, bronze handle. The door swung inwards with a soft sigh.

The room was dimly lit with a candelabra in one corner beside the bed, and a roaring fire opposite a long-winged sofa. Her master sat with his beloved snake wrapped gently around his shoulders. He didn't move, apart from one long pale finger that was caressing the snout of the creature. His eyes were transfixed on the fire, almost as though he was receiving some sort of vision or communication. The snake hissed gently as Bellatrix entered the room, and her master's eyes met hers. The fire reflected strangely in his red eyes making them appear almost demonic. He muttered something in a guttural language she could not understand and the snake seemed to nod and then untangled herself from his shoulders. Bellatrix often wondered about the peculiar relationship he and the serpent, Nagini, had.

"Good evening, Bellatrix." He said, "I see that you are looking healthier. The centaur's blood worked well, I take it?" He was referring to the potion he had personally made for her after she had escaped from Azkaban. She had been exhausted; malnourished. If he hadn't given her the centaur blood... Well, she didn't like to think about that. She had been robbed of her youth while she had been entombed in Azkaban. She would never be beautiful again. She had seen her face once or twice since she escaped. She was ghastly; a face like a skull and matted black hair. Yes, the centaur blood had restored some of her strength, but she would never be as she was.

"Yes, My Lord. I thank you for that gift-" She started.

"However," The Dark Lord interrupted, "I must add that restoring you was merely a courtesy I did myself," He rose gently from the sofa, towering over Bellatrix. She wasn't a short woman, but her master was slender; pearlescent skinned, those fiery eyes... She'd forgotten how beautiful he was. She felt her lips part slightly, and a tingling between her legs that she hadn't felt in almost fourteen years. The breath caught in her throat, "You are my most faithful follower, Bella," The pet name brought her back to reality. Her eyes flickered, "The most powerful witch I've ever met. I need you to be strong for what I have planned for Potter."

He swept behind her, his long-fingered hands resting gently on her narrow shoulders, "You suffered for fourteen years. Fourteen long years trapped in that dirty cell of yours. Do you think that I would let that go unrewarded?" he hissed into her ear. She could feel his warm breath against the flesh of her neck. She let out a small whimper, "You forgot that I can see your heart, didn't you?"

Bellatrix tried to form words, but the pulsing between her legs betrayed her. She let out a moan of anticipation.

"Ah yes. I know what you want," his hands were tight against her shoulders now, almost crushing her. Her chest was rising and falling in shudders, "I've known your heart for a long time, Bella. I know your desires." He seemed to purr. The pressure stopped. His voice stopped. The only sound was the crackling fire and the soft hissing of the serpent that was trailing along the floor. The Dark Lord lingered for a moment, almost thoughtfully, before he pulled away from her, "No."

Bellatrix furrowed her brow slightly. Her body was red hot, every inch of her aching for him, wanting to feel his hands against her back, the throbbing of his manhood inside her, his gasp of pleasure-

"I will never do this for you." He whispered, "You think I, Lord Voldemort, would allow myself to stoop to _that_ level? You're a fool for thinking it." He swooped passed her once more so he could face her. His red eyes were narrow, "Love makes one vulnerable," He looked down at the snake that was now resting at his feet and continued, "I suggest that you leave and think of a more appropriate reward."

She left his chambers frustrated. The dull ache between her legs was still there when she returned to her husband. His breathing was ragged as she mounted him, his hands firmly gripping her hips. She had never loved Rodolphus Lestrange, yet he had his uses. This was one of them. She moaned loudly as the waves of pleasure started in her womanhood. One of Rodolphus' hands found her breast, the other found itself between her legs. He stroked her as she rode him, gently twisting her nipple, watching as his wife's neck jerked, her back seeming to ripple as she cried out her master's name. Wave after wave came, each moan of his name getting louder and louder until she was screaming it, the bed vibrating with every rattling breath. He wasn't far behind her. With a shriek of pleasure, he spilt his thin seed inside her. As she dismounted him she put a hand between her legs, catching a droplet of it. She tasted it and chuckled to herself, allowing the rest of his seed to drip down her thigh. Yes, Rodolphus Lestrange had his uses.

She was trapped beneath the headless golden wizard, pinned against the marble floor. Her face was wet with tears. She was going back to Azkaban. Dumbledore would make sure of that. Yet as the Potter boy lay rigid on the wet floor she could hear her master's voice from his lips. The boy was surely dead, yet her master used him like a puppet. Dumbledore's pale blue eyes were wide behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore," He hissed through Potter's lips. Bellatrix felt the tear tracks hardening on her cheeks. The boy seemed to twitch violently as her master used him again, "If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy..."

The air seemed to gasp in pain as her master reappeared. For the first time in her life, she saw fear in his eyes. He stood for a moment, looking at Dumbledore and at the crowd of Aurors that were running down the corridor towards the atrium, headed by Cornelius Fudge.

"Master!" Bellatrix cried, "Please!" The headless golden wizard dropped like a marionette as her master waved his wand. He dashed across the atrium, gathering her up in his arms like a girl. She could feel his heart beating against her body, his breathing panicked as he looked for an escape. Then he twisted his body and with a faint pop, they faded away into darkness.

When they reappeared they were in his chamber at Malfoy Manor. The fire was out, the candelabra was unlit. The room was cold. The curtains were open and outside there was nothing in the inky blue sky but glistening stars. Her master held her in his arms for a moment.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, looking at her blotchy red face. She shook her head. He let her down gently, holding her hand as she found her footing, "How many were captured?"

Bellatrix looked at him through her swollen eyes. She felt breathless, "I... The rest of them, My Lord. Lucius. Rodolphus, Rabastan, Dolohov... All of them."

His face was impassive as he looked at her. His red eyes were like slits, his nostrils flared. Bellatrix fell to her knees before him, "Please, My Lord. Forgive me for this failure. I can't begin to..." Her voice trailed off as her master raised his hand.

"I don't want excuses, Bella. However, this failure is not entirely yours. I placed Lucius Malfoy in charge tonight. He will be punished. As for you..." He considered her for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side.

She whimpered. She knew how pathetic she sounded, like a beaten dog as she curled on the floor. Her eyes swelled once more with tears, "Please, My Lord. Please. I beg for your forgiveness."

Her master gave a soft mirthless laugh, "Don't grovel, Bella," He waved a hand and she clambered clumsily on to her feet. She gave a deep, snotty breath and wiped her eyes.

"Dumbledore made me think tonight. He seems to think that there are things far worse than death," He paused, his eyes glowing in the darkness, "He's a fool, yes. But I can't help but wonder if he has a point. You know how long I have strived to find immortality and I have found it. Look at me." Bellatrix smiled at this. Yes, he was perfection. He was strong, powerful... She felt her heart flutter as he went on, "Yet I fear that in my quest for immortality I have forgotten what I've strived all of my life to do - to preserve the blood of my ancestor."The blood of Salazar Slytherin runs through my veins and my veins alone," He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. She watched him with fascination as he went on, "If there was another to carry on his legacy, to keep His bloodline alive, I could train them personally – as I did with you, Bella. They would be my right hand, my most trusted advisor. They would be the most powerful witch or wizard alive - apart from myself, of course," he allowed himself a smirk, "There would be no more failures, no need to deal with the Lucius Malfoy's or the Dolohov's of the world. No, I will have an army with the new heir of Slytherin as their leader..." His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes wide. He looked almost excited.

Bellatrix flushed suddenly, her eyes welling with tears once again, "What are you saying, My Lord?"

She knew it before he said it, yet she was surprised all the same, "You can have your reward," He stepped towards her, his pale hands outstretched towards her. He took her in his arms, "You shall give me an heir. Is that understood?"

Bellatrix nodded, "There can be no higher pleasure."

A smirk crossed his lips, "No higher pleasure," He repeated. Bellatrix didn't quite know what to do. She had laid with men before yet none as important as her master. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close. He was already swollen, the pressure of his manhood pressed against her. She gasped at the feeling of it. She looked up at him, as she had done many times before. This time however he leaned forward. His lips touched hers. She felt like she might explode. She had dreamt of this moment for so long, how rough he would kiss her, then his hands would tangle through her hair, unfastening her robes. Throwing her onto the bed... She felt him smile into the kiss. She must have been thinking too loudly. He bit down hard and Bellatrix gave a soft moan. Her womanhood was aching, her juices dripping down into her knickers. His hands did as she imagined, running through her knotted black hair. She removed her robes herself, her pale breasts revealed before her master grabbed them tightly and squeezed. She gasped in pain, pulling away from the kiss and revealing her neck. Her master bit down hard, tonguing the pale skin there. The moisture from his lips made her moan, imagining what it would feel like to have him do what only Rodolphus would do for her.

"Don't think of him," He purred. He cupped her face, "Or I shall have Alecto Carrow do this task for me. And neither of us would want that now, would we?" He placed a hand down between her thighs, pushing aside the cotton fabric of her knickers. He stroked her, sliding a finger inside of her. She let out a loud moan as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. He tasted her juices. They were red hot and running down his long fingers.

"Go to the bed." He hissed, and he began to remove his own robes. Bellatrix, now naked, lay on the satin sheets of the Dark Lord's bed. She touched her breasts gently as her master came to her. His manhood was swollen yet pale. His body was skeletally thin. Every bone was visible yet he did not appear weak.

He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. She let out a soft whimper of anticipation as his head lingered for a moment. He waved a hand in the direction of the fireplace which erupted with red hot flames that danced shadows across the dark walls. He returned his attention to Bellatrix. He ran a hand through the hair she had down there; dark and thick. And then with a sharp flick of his tongue, Bellatrix let out a cry. He began to suckle at her, a finger tracing the opening of her sex as he teased her with his forked tongue. She could feel a tightness in her stomach, pressure building as he sucked harder and harder. Her back arched upwards and she let out a shriek, screaming "My Lord" yet he persisted, making her throb and ache with every wave that came. She grasped for the sheets, needing to hold onto something as her back arched again. She tried to keep her thoughts away from Rodolphus, yet as her master's tongue teased her she couldn't help but think about when he had done this to her, how she had dug her nails into his shaggy brown hair. She didn't dare touch her master, though her left arm – out of habit more than anything else – ached to grab hold of his head and force him down hard. A bead of sweat dripped between her quivering breasts as her master lifted his head.

Without any warning, he pushed himself inside of her with a deep thrust. He quietly moaned as he gained his rhythm. He was rough with her, his hands resting on her shoulders, his nails digging into the pale flesh leaving red marks in their wake. Bellatrix felt delirious as another wave of pleasure swept over her as again and again, her master pounded into her. The bed was shaking, the Earth was splitting in two. Her throat was raw. She looked up at him. His eyes were shut, his mouth hanging open. He was breathing heavily. He was close. Bellatrix could feel his thrusting becoming even more urgent. Her back arched again as she was overcome with pleasure, and this time she flung her arms around his shoulders. He thrust deeper and then, with a grunt, he tossed his head back. His eyes were open. This time his thrusts were quicker, and then it was over. He had pulled out of her, his manhood now shrinking after he had found his pleasure, and he threw her robes to her.

"Clean yourself up." He commanded as she dressed. He had already pulled his robes over himself, the snake wrapping her way around his shoulders, "And should my heir quicken inside of you, they shall remain a secret until they come of age. Is that clear?"

"Yes, My Lord." She whispered, her cheeks flushed with passion. She could feel his seed heavy inside of her. It trickled slightly down her thigh as she left his chambers, the door slamming firmly behind her. He had not kissed her goodbye, he had not seen her to the door.

"No higher pleasure..." She whispered thoughtfully to herself as she took a long, lonely walk back to her chambers, a hand resting on her stomach and her master's seed.

_I really hope you enjoyed this one-shot. If you like it, please leave a review. And if you want to read more, please say. I've really enjoyed dipping my toe back into writing and perhaps I could extend this story further._


	2. Persuasion

_AN: Thank you so much for all of the follows/favourites this story has received so far! I can't tell you how happy I am that you seem to be enjoying it!_

_Without further ado, here is chapter 2 of No Higher Pleasure_

* * *

"You can't trust him," Bellatrix said defiantly.

Since escaping from Azkaban, she had noticed the slimeball slithering his way into the higher ranks of the Death Eaters. She wasn't having it. He had stayed in Dumbledore's pocket for sixteen years. Who's to say that he hadn't switched sides during the Dark Lord's absence?

They had been in discussions in the drawing-room of Malfoy Manor for over an hour. Bellatrix was blue in the face trying to explain why Severus Snape could not be trusted; the prophecy, the philosopher's stone, why he sided with Dumbledore following the Dark Lord's defeat. Voldemort was sitting on the sofa, a glass of red wine clutched in one hand, the other stroking the snout of the snake, Nagini, who had wrapped herself around his shoulders. Bellatrix was pacing backwards and forwards in front of the fireplace. She kept biting the skin at the top of her thumb nervously.

"So you keep reminding me, Bellatrix." Voldemort replied sounding almost bored, "However, he has provided me with a great deal of information since he has rejoined our cause, feeding me information about the Order-"

"And had Snape been there a few weeks ago when we infiltrated the Ministry, I'm sure we would have retrieved the prophecy." Said Bellatrix sarcastically.

Voldemort let out a sound similar to a snort of amusement, "Are you suggesting that all of you who were sent on that mission were incompetent?" He tilted his head slightly to one side as he looked at Bellatrix, one thin finger tracing the rim of his wine glass, "Perhaps a few, but Lucius was in charge. And look where he is, and look where you are," he gestured a spindly white hand in Bellatrix's direction, "Possibly carrying my child, and free only because I was there to save you from a second stint in Azkaban."

Bellatrix didn't quite know what to say in response to that. He was right, of course. Had he not ridden in to save the day and revealed himself to the Aurors she'd be back in Azkaban just like Rodolphus. She considered him for a moment, one of her hands unconsciously moving to rest on her hollow stomach.

Her body was changing. She wasn't sure if it was weight gain or pregnancy; her breasts were fuller and slightly more sensitive than usual. She had looked at herself in the mirror some days before and had noticed her face appeared less gaunt. Again, this could have been down to weight gain.

"I appreciate that you're concerned enough to see me about Snape, Bellatrix," Voldemort resumed casually stroking the snout of the snake, her narrow eyes always watching Bellatrix, "But you have nothing to worry about. You are forgetting that I am the greatest legilimens the world has ever seen. Do you not think that I would have checked him myself?"

Bellatrix looked Voldemort straight in the eye. Although he was a skilled legilimens, he had taught her everything she knew and right now she was blocking a thought that would have earned her a considerable amount of time under the Cruciatus Curse.

"Of course you checked him, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered.

* * *

Later that day, Bellatrix had found herself consoling a hysterical Narcissa. She had never seen her youngest sister like this; she was always cool and calm yet since Lucius had been locked away her facade had slipped. She was no longer the beautiful and elegant Narcissa Malfoy. She was a red-faced, dishevelled mess.

"My only son," Narcissa kept repeating as she sobbed into Bellatrix's shoulder. Bellatrix didn't quite know what to say, so just continued rubbing her back in circular motions.

Yesterday the Dark Lord had called the two sisters into a meeting, along with Draco, to discuss his future amongst the Death Eaters. Draco was keen to get started and when Bellatrix had spoken to him over dinner that night he was looking forward to his first mission - to kill Albus Dumbledore.

"Draco is a talented young man. He's proved himself enough to be initiated already. He hasn't earned his mark yet, of course." She was referring to the fact that Draco wouldn't receive his dark mark until after Dumbledore had died, "He seemed excited at the prospect of his mission. If he's not worrying then neither should you."

Narcissa let out a deafening sob, "He's just a boy!" She wailed. She raised her pale head and looked at her older sister through puffy red eyes, "You will never understand. You don't have a child. Draco is my son... my only son," She started sniffling again. She wiped her nose and her eyes on the sleeve of her robes and then with a few deep, steadying breaths, rose to her feet, "I need to speak to him."

Bellatrix frowned, "Cissy, he's probably studying."

"Not Draco," Narcissa replied, "Severus Snape."

An explosion of rage filled Bellatrix. First the Dark Lord, now her own sister. The slimeball had convinced half of the remaining ranks that he was trustworthy.

Before she could issue her sister a word of warning, she had vanished with a very faint pop. Bellatrix scowled, grasping her wand that was hidden inside her robes, and turned into darkness. She didn't know where her sister would be going, but she just kept focusing on Narcissa, repeating in her mind "Narcissa, Narcissa" as her body twisted and contorted through the seemingly never-ending abyss.

When she reappeared she was in the shadow of a disused mill. The scent of stale drains filled her nostrils. She saw a cloaked figure, her sister, in the corner of her eye. In front of her, however, she could see another moving shape. As if by instinct she raised her wand and the shape fell back to the ground dead. She approached it, turning it over with the toe of her boot, "Just a fox. I thought perhaps an Auror..."

* * *

The vow had been sealed. As the red light faded from the tip of her wand, Bellatrix's jaw hung agape. Narcissa stroked her hand as she pulled it away from Snape. Snape did the same. They shared a look that made Bellatrix feel ill. It was the look the Dark Lord gave Snape - a look of complete trust. She sheathed her wand, and as she did Narcissa drew herself back up onto her feet. She wiped hot tears away from beneath her eyes, mouthing the words "thank you" to Bellatrix.

After they finished the bottle of elf-made wine, Narcissa decided to leave. Bellatrix shook her head as her sister beckoned for her to join her back at Malfoy Manor. She still had some questions Snape needed to answer before she could believe this man was completely trustworthy.

The door clicked shut. Bellatrix's dark eyes examined Snape's black ones for a moment, "So what's wrong with Dumbledore for you to agree to kill him?"

Snape leaned back in his battered winged armchair for a moment, "After all of that you still don't trust me? I agree to kill arguably the greatest wizard alive, the man who defeated Grindelwald, put my career and my life on the line and you still don't trust me?" He didn't sound defensive, just exacerbated.

He was tired of going over all of the same points with this woman in front of him, with her deep dark eyes, her black hair falling in soft waves around her face. Azkaban may have ravaged Bellatrix's face but Snape had to admit to himself that she was still beautiful, in a harsher way, though never able to hold a candle to his Lily. The curves he had admired before she had been imprisoned were gently coming back, her breasts were fuller. Her face, though still gaunt, was filling out. And those haunting, hooded eyes...

Bellatrix let out a soft titter as she gazed into that thought. Trying to stop herself from smiling with amusement, she placed down her empty wine glass and said, "Did you ever tell the Dark Lord how you felt about Lily Potter?"

Snape seemed uneasy at that, "Lily Potter?" He feigned ignorance, "As in Harry Potter's mother? Why would I have feelings for a dirty mudblood like her?"

Bellatrix gave him a knowing look, not even needing to use legilimency now to read the fact that he was lying, "So when you asked for him to spare her life, why did you do it?"

Again, Snape shifted in his chair, "I did it because I knew of the ancient magic that would destroy him, as it did. You must admit, Bellatrix, that love is the most powerful magic known to anyone - wizard or muggle, and no love compares to the love of a mother. Why would I want to see my master come to harm when I could prevent his destruction with a warning that he did not heed?"

Bellatrix's cheeks flushed, "So there was no selfish reason for you asking for Lily Potter to be spared? No desire that you had for her? No wishes that following the death of her husband and son she would come rushing back to you?"

Snape smiled at this. He knew she was trying to read him now, as when she tried she was hitting a wall, "Lily and I were friends at school, until she decided that she wanted to befriend Potter and your cousin. She was a talented witch, and I saw potential in her, potential that I sold to the Dark Lord. If he spared her, she would have made an excellent Death Eater-"

"Willingly fighting for the man who killed her family?" Bellatrix snorted, "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"The Dark Lord believes it because it is the truth. I don't see why you persist with your mistrust of me, Bellatrix. The Dark Lord trusts me, which means that those of you who still call me a traitor need to discuss this with him, as I'm sure you already have."

It was Bellatrix's turn to block Snape. She could see thoughts racing towards the surface of her brain but she used all of her might to pull them back; Nagini resting on the Dark Lord's shoulders as Bellatrix told him Snape can't be trusted, being trapped beneath the statue at the ministry, and a thin hand resting upon a hollow stomach-

She knocked him back before he saw too much but he had seen enough, for a smile lit his sallow face, "You didn't tell me you were pregnant?"

Bellatrix clenched her jaw, "I'm not," she lied. She focused all her energy into keeping Snape out of her head.

"And it's the Dark Lord's baby. Now I understand why you're so protective of him - it affects the child growing inside of you."

"Or, perhaps, I don't want to see him get hurt by a traitor like you."

Snape cocked his head, considering Bellatrix, "Oh yes, you are. I'd say perhaps five weeks? Not long at all. And you don't want it getting out, do you-"

Bellatrix rushed across the room and with one swift motion, her hand came soaring down through the air and struck the side of Snape's taunting face, "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will ensure that it's the last thing you ever do."

Stroking his cheek, Snape looked up at her. His expression was still mocking. She glowered at him for a moment before gathering her cloak and heading for the door.

"Bella," Snape said very quietly, "If you want to make yourself useful for Draco's mission then teach him the ways. Teach him what the Dark Lord taught you. You won't be able to protect him when the time comes, with your..." He made a gesture to indicate a swollen stomach. Bellatrix exhaled angrily and, almost ripping the front door off its hinges, marched out into the cool night air.

* * *

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed the second instalment of this story. Again, please feel free to leave a review if you're enjoying it! I know a lot of people find The Cursed Child problematic so, once again, this is just me trying to fit it into the canon, because a lot wasn't explained during the play/after by the writers. So this is just my little headcanon and trying to keep it close to the canon of the books as best as I can._


	3. Obliviate

_A/N: Before you start reading, this chapter may prove upsetting to some people as it features the Longbottoms' demise. Please feel free to read, but it does get brutal._

_Enjoy!_

**January 1982**

The round-faced woman was sobbing loudly. She was cradling her husband, who was spasming on the floor. His face was bloodied, his eyes rolling loosely in his head like some sort of possessed china doll. His fine, blond hair appeared electrified. What remained around his face was stuck down by only a thick layer of sweat and blood.

"Please, we don't know! Let us go!" Pleaded the woman.

"Alice, you must know something," snarled Rodolphus, his shaggy mess of brown hair falling into his eyes as he lent down. He grabbed her face roughly, "Now tell us where he is or you'll end up just like him," He turned her face down so she looked at her now unconscious husband, "And you wouldn't want that for your son, now, would you?"

She remained silent. This only incensed Rodolphus who growled. His hand grasped for Alice Longbottom's throat. He drew her up so they were face to face. Her feet were barely touching the floor.

"Now tell me, woman. What do you know?" Alice whimpered as Rodolphus threw her back to the floor with a sour laugh, "Not talking?" He drew out his wand-

"Crucio!" Tears stung Bellatrix's eyes as she cast the spell. Her voice cracked. The thought of never seeing the Dark Lord again made her stomach twist sickeningly. He was still alive. He had to be. She knew it. These liars, these traitors in front of her knew. Oh, they knew! She twisted her wand as she approached Alice's quivering, shrieking form, "What did you do to him? Where is he? WHERE?!"

Alice Longbottom crumbled back to the floor, her body no longer contorting sickeningly. She crawled pathetically back to her husband, her face red and imploring, "Haven't you done enough?" She panted, wiping a trail of blood from her chin, "I don't know!"

Bellatrix's eyes were wild. "You're lying, you filthy traitor! You know where he is. You know! Tell me or I swear you will never see your son again!" Bellatrix cried, "Tell me or your son gets what he got!" She gestured to Frank who was now speaking in tongues on the floor.

Alice screamed, "Not Neville! Please don't hurt him!" She wiped hot tears from beneath her eyes, "I'll do anything, but I don't know where he is! Let me go, let us go!"

Barty, a young boy no older than eighteen, cleared his throat from the doorway. He had in his arms a plump baby boy. Bellatrix thought he looked around the same age as her nephew, Draco.

"Ah, here's the babe now," Bellatrix cooed, "Yes, look at your Mummy and Daddy," she looked at the baby and then at Frank and Alice, "They're willing to let you die just to protect their pathetic little lives," Bellatrix smiled wickedly, "Of course, we all know that once you're gone both of your parents will die too."

Alice began to scream, clawing through the air, trying to grab her baby away from the Death Eaters, but Rabastan restrained her.

Barty flinched, "Bella," he said in a low voice, "You can't... Please tell me you're joking? You can't harm a- a child!"

Rodolphus' nostrils flared "If you want Him back, and you know what's good for you, then keep quiet and let us do the grown-up work... This is the only way."

Bellatrix nodded to her husband, and then returned her attention to Alice, "Now I'm going to give you one more chance. Tell me where he is and I may spare yours and your son's lives," She sounded almost calm as she said it, her wand pointing threateningly in the woman's face. Alice's face was purple, her eyes red and swollen, bloodshot. Bellatrix snarled at her silence, "Speak now, woman."

At this, the baby began to cry. He wailed almost as loudly as his mother as tears streamed down his chubby, round face. Bellatrix turned her wand on the boy, which drew a shriek of fear from Alice who was fighting with all of her might against Rabastan's restraints. She aimed her wand, very carefully, into the boy's face. Her eyes narrowed, her lips parted. Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

Alice spluttered, "Please! P-p-lease! Not Neville. Please don't hurt him!"

And at that moment, Bellatrix cracked. She turned on her heels, a jet of brilliant red light shot out of the tip of her wand as Alice Longbottom flailed and writhed on the floor, sobbing. Rabastan dropped her precariously, racing away from her as Bellatrix's eyes flashed scarlet. All of the anger, all of the hatred oozed out of Bellatrix in a sweet, euphoric release. Oh, she missed her Master. She missed him and she needed to see him again. She no longer saw the broken furniture of the Longbottom's bedroom, she no longer saw Alice Longbottom flailing on the floor. She saw Him. Him and his brilliant red eyes, his pale white skin, his snake-like face. She felt his warmth pressed against her during their lessons in the great hall of Lestrange Manor. She felt his hot gaze upon her during meetings. She heard his high, cool voice whispering her name.

"Bella," he hissed. She quivered, her wand tight in her hand, "Bella..."

"Bella!"

It was Rodolphus' voice that roused her. Her wand was still pointing downwards at Alice. She was grasping for something, anything. Her nails were leaving trails on the floor as again and again Bellatrix's wand fell. She screamed, begging for death as the Cruciatus Curse spread through her like wildfire. Bellatrix screamed too, but no words passed her lips. Her wand was shaking, getting hotter as Alice's screams grew louder, she started clawing at her skin leaving bloodied claw marks down her pale, round cheeks until... she was silent. She was no longer screaming. She was motionless.

Bellatrix was still screaming, her face flushed as her wand continued torturing the unmoving body of Alice Longbottom, "YOU CAN'T DIE YET, LONGBOTTOM!" She raced across to her captive, kicking her in the ribs, "I'm not done with you!" She raised her wand again, "Crucio!"

The baby was screaming now. His mother was no longer moving, his father was in some sort of trance. Bellatrix had thrown her wand on the floor. She had hold of the front of Alice's robes and was shaking her now, "WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE?"

"Bella, it's over." Barty said, "She's gone!" He raised his wand and pointed it into the child's face.

"It's over when I say it's over, boy!" Bellatrix hissed dangerously.

Barty looked at her for a moment, "We need to go before the Aurors arrive... and we need to wipe his memory before they try to milk him for information."

Her breathing ragged, Bellatrix dropped Alice, gathered her wand from the floor and walked carefully to the boy and the baby, "You're right," and then raising her wand again she whispered, "Obliviate."

The child's eyes rolled back into his head as he fell unconscious, his body growing floppy against Barty's. She looked at the boy and nodded to the nursery from which he had gathered the child.

**September 1996**

Bellatrix Lestrange awoke with a start. She was sitting bolt upright, a fine sheen of sweat covering her face. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She grasped for her swollen stomach.

The baby kicked against her hand, drawing a smile to Bellatrix's thin face. It was lively and had been giving her flashbacks for a fortnight. It was the third time that week she had relived that night at the Longbottoms. Before that, she had been back in her cell in Azkaban for a night. She had gone to the Dark Lord about that one, who dismissed her with a cold laugh.

She relaxed against her pillow again, one hand on her stomach, the other holding back her thick mane of black hair. She could feel the baby moving about in there, as lively as a wild animal. She wondered how on Earth she was going to disguise her ever-growing bump. For now, she could disguise it with baggier clothes but soon the bump would be too big to hide with simply an oversized robe.

She looked out of the window. It was just before dawn, which meant that it was time to get ready for her lesson with Draco. She had agreed with Narcissa to teach Draco occlumency - she definitely wasn't giving any credit to Snape for the suggestion two months ago when they had visited him.

Bellatrix had decided to use magic to disguise herself so she could enter Hogwarts posing as a student, then she could travel to the room of requirement and meet Draco for their lesson. He had only been back at school for a few weeks and he was already keen to learn the Dark Arts.

She had no qualms with that - she had grown fond of the boy and knew that she needed to help him learn how to defend himself from the prying eyes of Severus Snape. She had already taught him the basics; the unforgivable curses, which he had picked up straight away, and a few curses and hexes that would get him out of a pinch should he be involved in a battle.

Her priority, however, was protecting Draco from Snape.

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review and follow if you did!_


	4. The Staircase

_A/N: Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback both here and on AO3. This story is so interesting to write and I'm really enjoying it._

_This chapter did prove quite difficult to write but I hope you enjoy it._

_TW: Suicidal ideation._

* * *

Snow covered the gravel and fields outside Malfoy Manor like a white blanket and the large flakes whipped passed the windows in gusts. Icicles had formed during the night on the ledges of the windows. They dripped and froze, growing longer with each passing hour. As the snow fell on the vast grounds of the house, Narcissa sat, her legs outstretched in front of her, on the floor in front of a roaring fire that belched heat into the sumptuously decorated drawing-room. Though her home was warm, nothing quite compared to the comfort of a wood fire and a good book on a cold winter's day.

It was just after Christmas and, as usual, she had ordered far too much food. Draco was still home for the school holidays and was helping the guests through the excess. She was working through a tin of chocolate biscuits in between pages of her book, rewarding herself with a different kind of biscuit every time she read a page. It was proving encouraging. The tin was already half empty and she had only started the book that morning.

Narcissa's elder sister was with her, asleep on the sofa, her long dark hair falling around her in wild tendrils. She too had been reading, the book laying open across her stomach. She stirred in her sleep, snorting softly as she rolled over on to her side, knocking the book on to the stone floor. It landed with a soft thud, but this did not wake her. She was fast asleep. Narcissa allowed herself a smile. She was happy to see her sister relaxed.

A sharp, prickling pain in her arm made Bellatrix rouse from her deep slumber instantly. It was familiar and six months ago that pain would have made her heart soar. Now it felt dull, ominous. As though something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She stretched, yawning and then looked across at Narcissa who was smiling to herself as she helped herself to a biscuit from the tin beside her.

"What are you smirking at?" Bellatrix sneered. Narcissa's smile widened, a mischevious gleam in her eye. Bellatrix shook her head dismissively, climbing off the sofa. She cupped her stomach protectively, though the bump had not noticeably grown she could feel the child stir inside of her, thrusting a hand or a foot into awkward positions every now and then. She winced as she felt a tiny hand pushing against her back.

"Has he summoned you?" Narcissa asked, eating another biscuit as she turned the page of her book. Bellatrix said nothing but walked out of the drawing-room and into the entrance hall, following the soft red carpet that led to the staircase.

Even climbing stairs was difficult now, but Bellatrix did wonder if that was due to the number of potatoes she had eaten on Christmas Day. They were still sitting heavily on her stomach after two days. She leant against the bannister when she reached the top of the first staircase. She was thankful that the Dark Lord's chambers weren't far from here. Once she caught her breath, she followed the corridor to her master's room. She tapped at the door lightly, and then she heard a high clear voice from within the room.

"Enter," It called out to her.

The Dark Lord was sitting in a leather winged armchair with his back to the door, looking at the snow as it fell. The flakes were huge, leaving imprints on the glass as they melted against it. The fire in the room was low but warm enough to make the room comfortable.

"Take a seat, Bellatrix."

Her full name from his lips stung. She winced at it but did as she was bidden, taking a seat on the long leather sofa. The Dark Lord did not turn to look at her but continued watching the snow with fascination, like a child. She wondered if their child would have that same look of wonder when they saw snow.

She closed her eyes and lingered on that thought. She could see herself… It was a day like today. The snow was deep and thick, falling persistently from a white sky that seemed to go on forever. She was in a heavy purple robe, her hair longer and damp. She was chasing after a small child in a feathered travelling cloak. The child was laughing, running around with a fistful of snow in their hand. She was calling after the child, who screamed gleefully, dropping the snow and clapping their mitten-clad hands together. Bellatrix's smile was wide. She raced towards the child, gathering them in her arms-

"I appreciate you coming to see me at such short notice, Bellatrix," Voldemort said softly.

Bellatrix pursed her lips, "It's an honour, My Lord." She replied, "What seems to be the problem?"

Voldemort rose from his seat, circling his chair to face her. He looked thinner somehow, his eyes even redder than they had been before. This didn't frighten Bellatrix. On the contrary, she found his eyes even more hypnotising than before.

"Can you duel?" He asked bluntly.

Bellatrix blinked, confused, "Well I haven't tried since I taught Draco-"

Her legs spasmed in front of her, her back curling into the sofa as she cried out in pain. She put one hand in front of her stomach as a blinding pain scorched up her spine, leaving a bruising sensation in its wake. The baby thrashed inside of her. It must have also felt the spell. Voldemort stood over her, his wand in his hand. She snarled, grasping in her pocket for her wand but with a red flash of light that too was ripped from her hand and flew into the Dark Lord's.

"Your reactions are slowing down. The child is taking your magic." He sighed, handing her wand back to her and offering a hand up off the floor. She dusted down her robes, "I want my child to be as great and as powerful as me. When they come of age they will be my second in command, they will command my armies here while I spread our cause across the wizarding world, but that can only happen if this child is exposed to great magic during gestation," Voldemort tilted his head slightly, considering Bellatrix, "Did you wonder why I asked you to carry my child?"

Bellatrix shook her head, "I thought it was my reward."

Voldemort smiled mirthlessly, "Well, yes. But also because you are a talented witch. I want our child to have your loyalty and power. They will absorb your magic rendering you no more than a squib," Bellatrix screeched in protest, but Voldemort raised a hand to stall her, "Only for the remainder of the pregnancy. You will notice your magic growing weaker over the coming weeks and then when the child is born, your magic will return. Eventually."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes, "My Lord, forgive me, but you never mentioned this before we conceived the child."

Again, he smiled knowingly, his red eyes wide, "No I didn't, did I?" He returned his wand to within his robes and circled back to the window where he resumed his gazing out into the snow, his fingers tented thoughtfully beneath his chin.

Knowing that there was no point in pleading with him, Bellatrix left the room, slamming the door behind her as tears stung her eyes. Whatever spell he had cast on her had indeed started giving her strength to the baby. It was not normal for a pregnant witch to be rendered a squib. It was a spell of his creation. He had done this to her.

This was no reward. This was her punishment for what happened at the ministry six months before, and he would reap the rewards for it - as he always did.

She was standing at the top of the steep staircase that led downstairs and at that moment she could see herself falling, hitting every stone step on the way down. She could see herself crumpled at the bottom and the curse placed upon her would be broken. There would be no child to drain her of her magic. Her foot faltered as she took her first step.

She wanted to do this.

Her heart was racing. Bile was burning the back of her throat. Flashes of what could be darted in front of her eyes. The child in the snow was no longer laughing. It was covered in blood. So much blood. She could feel the child thrashing inside of her. It knew what she was about to do. It knew that its life was nearly over. No more… It would never hold a wand, it would never have the chance to be the Dark Lord's plaything or his second in command. Bellatrix would put an end to it-

"Bella?"

It was Narcissa's voice that dragged her out of her thoughts, and the foot that had hovered over the top step for what felt like an age missed its mark. She was falling, hitting every stone step on her way down. Her head bounced off step after step and she could feel blood trickling down her face. Her vision was blurring. It was nearly over, but it had only been a fantasy. She placed a hand over her stomach as she landed on the bottom step with an ominous crack that filled her body with a pain she had never felt before. She cried out, trying to curl up to protect the baby but she couldn't move. Hot pain seared her body. The baby was still thrashing and she could feel its rage, His rage.

Narcissa screamed. She could hear her footsteps racing across the stone floor and sliding to her knees beside her. Red hot pain seared her flesh and then… Black.


	5. Through The Fire

_A/N: Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback both here and on AO3. I'm so sorry it has taken forever for me to actually post an update to this fic but I hope it was worth the wait! Enjoy chapter five!_

* * *

Lord Voldemort smirked. He placed himself down in the chair again, facing the snow flurries that drifted gently passed the wide glass window. Nagini hissed softly at his feet as he tented his fingers beneath his chin.

The child would grow strong, it would be the most powerful witch or wizard within his ranks once it was of age. Absorbing its mother's power will only solidify this fact, he thought to himself. He perhaps wondered if he had been harsh on dear Bellatrix, who had been so enthusiastic about the child; exhausted, but nevertheless pleased to be bearing his heir. Her current condition was both a reward and a punishment – a prolonged punishment that would only yield once the child was born. Bellatrix Lestrange would be reduced to no more than a squib until she gave birth. This would be her punishment for hers and Malfoy's failure at the ministry.

He allowed himself a cruel smile. Little did the witch know that this had been his plan all along; the conception of a child – his next lieutenant - was merely a pleasant coincidence. He would not bother with the child, of course, not until he or she was of age. He had never enjoyed the whining and whimpering of the brats in the orphanage and he had no patience for the shrieks of the child, even if it did share his blood. No, Bellatrix could deal with that.

There was an urgent knock at the door. Narcissa Malfoy entered before he had even finished beckoning her in, her hands covered in what looked like-

"Blood?" He whispered.

"My Lord, pardon me for disturbing you." Her eyes averted his gaze, "It's Bella. She's-"

He didn't linger to listen to the rest of what she had to say. As if by instinct, he forced her out of his way. His heart was in his throat. _Don't let her be dead_, he thought to himself, _this is my fault if she's dead._

She had been heading back downstairs when she had left him, weak and drawn, and there at the bottom of the grand staircase she lay; crumpled and broken.

"Bella," He breathed, taking two steps at a time as he raced towards her. He could see now what had happened. Her legs were bent out at an awkward angle, her stomach cradled in her hands. There was an unmistakeable splatter of blood at the front of her robes, still shining in the light emitted by the grand chandelier that hung overhead. Her face was also bloodied, a deep gash above her right eyebrow.

_Please don't be dead_, he thought as he took the final steps towards her, though whether he said this out-loud he wasn't sure. He could see her chest moving beneath her heavy robes. He sighed with relief.

"She won't wake up," Narcissa said softly from behind him, "Perhaps I should take her upstairs and assess—"

Voldemort shook his head, "No." He said sharply, "I will examine her," he couldn't risk Narcissa finding out about the child, though he doubted that her healing skills were advanced enough to identify the pregnancy there was every possibility that the witch may recognise the swollen stomach and breasts that protruded from her sister's body, "I will take her to her room."

He drew his wand from within his robe and gave it a gentle flick. Bellatrix groaned as she was lifted from the stone floor. Droplets of blood followed her floating form as she was levitated up the stairs.

"Clean this up," He commanded Narcissa, who nodded and left to find a house-elf. When the blonde had left he followed Bellatrix's unconscious body. He frowned, resting a hand on her stomach, praying that the embers of life still burned within there; hoping against hope that her fall had not harmed the new heir of Slytherin.

And then, though soft and weak, there was a gentle pressure against his hand. A smile lit his pale face as he guided Bellatrix into her bedroom and rested her gently on her silky bed. Her hair fanned out around her, her pale skin almost like ice, and there was no tension in her face. In that moment she was beautiful. Voldemort allowed himself a vague smile. He didn't know why, but he felt relief that there was still life in his most faithful servant.

Bellatrix's room was dark, decorated with rich purple fabrics and deep ebony woods. The bed looked like it was rarely disturbed, but there was a chair by the dying fire that had a blanket over it. The curtains were drawn, not allowing even the faintest ray of sunlight in, and he wondered if they had ever been opened. He realised now that he had never really listened to Bellatrix when she had told him about her struggles to reacquaint herself with a normal life after Azkaban, putting her persistent chatter down as merely complaints and attention-seeking. He didn't know this woman any more; this woman who had been loyal for so many years, had endured endless torment in prison and who was now carrying _their_ child.

Voldemort took his wand and whispered a few incantations under his breath; to identify broken bones, to heal any wounds and to staunch the heavy bleeding that was now trickling down from between her legs. He rested a hand on her stomach once again, just to make sure the child was still there. A gentle kick told him that he or she was still there, fighting just like their mother. He hoped that whatever was born would be as strong as she was; just as fierce and just as brave.

After healing her, Voldemort put Bellatrix in a thick nightdress and then pulled the heavy fur blanket from the chair and carefully placed it over her. She stirred as he tucked it beneath her, but she did not wake. She would need rest, and magic would no longer restore the blood she had lost. He cursed himself for casting the spell on her, for punishing her so harshly but there was no reversing it now – the spell must run its course. He lingered above her for a moment, gazing at her resting form. A faint smile played around the corners of her thin lips and he wondered what she was dreaming about. Before he realised what he was doing, he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. She let out a deep breath as he pulled away and then he sat by the fire, watching her.

She did not move for several hours. The night had drawn in before she rolled onto her side, tugging the blanket over her shoulder. She had always been a side sleeper, he reminded himself. A heavy trailing sound on the wooden floor told him that Nagini had entered the room.

"How is she?" She asked softly, so as not to disturb the quiet of the room.

Voldemort looked down at the serpent, her triangular head resting at his feet, "Alive."

"And the child?"

"Also alive."

Nagini slithered across the floor and rose like a cobra from a snake charmer's basket, to peer over the bed at the sleeping form of the woman. She was as tall as a man when she stood, her yellow eyes blinking. And then she lowered herself onto the bed and curled up beside Bellatrix, her head resting on the witch's swollen stomach.

"The child is strong, Master," She hissed, "Very strong indeed. She shall survive this."

Voldemort nodded, "I know she will," he rubbed his red eyes with the tips of his fingers. Stars appeared in front of him when he opened them again, and Bellatrix was still motionless with Nagini resting upon her stomach.

The fire crackled away to ash as dawn drew in once again. He had opened the curtains to allow sunlight to spill into the musty room. The snow had stopped now. A small bird landed on the thick blanket that remained on the window ledge. It pecked at it, looked up at him with its beady black eyes, puffed out its red breast, and then flew away again.

Nagini hissed in her sleep and Bellatrix, who had still not woken up, grunted softly. He gazed at the pair of them lying together. He walked quietly to the bed so as not to disturb them. He sat down, a long-fingered hand resting on Bellatrix's stomach once again. The child kicked ferociously against him now, perhaps wondering why its mother hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. He allowed himself a smile of amusement.

* * *

The room was black but for a blood-red flame in front of her. She expected to feel warmth against her bare skin, yet she felt nothing. Closer she drew to it, her pale arms outstretched. The flames licked her flesh yet it did not burn her. It kissed her gently, shimmering in her dark eyes. There was no noise, not even her breathing was audible. Then, she placed one foot forward.

From within her navel, she felt a painful tug. She landed in the flames but they did not scorch her flesh as she had expected. Instead, they formed shapes all around her; a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a man; a small, watery-eyed man with a pinched face and a hunched back. His hair was thicker than it was now. As if in a dream, she could see her younger self sitting beside him, her dress tight and her breasts heaving. They were full and sumptuous. Her hair sparkled in the light of the room. She could see a smile as she had received the news she had wished to hear, and the flames danced again revealing the Dark Lord and herself tangled in a bedsheet, the headboard pounding against the wall. And again, her eyes bloodshot as she wept into Rodolphus' chest, and then in a bloodied and tattered grey robe on a damp stone floor.

The flames swirled around her, showing her memories from a life that seemed almost lost to her. Andromeda running away, Father's death, Azkaban. So hot, so hot. Yet she remembered Azkaban being cold. Was she dead? Was this her life flashing before her eyes? As the past revealed itself to her she could feel more and more heat and suddenly her skin was ablaze, the flesh of her arm melting away to reveal charcoal black bones. The flames traced up towards her face and then everything was gone...

A shaking sensation drew her from her death. As her eyes flickered open, she looked up to see that the Dark Lord was looking down at her.

"Am I dead?" She croaked. Her throat was raw. She must have been screaming.

The Dark Lord shook his head, "No. But you did lose a lot of blood. The placenta detached from the side of your womb when you fell. I used magic to staunch the bleeding but you will need to rest," And then, seemingly as an afterthought, he added, "How are you feeling?"

Bellatrix wondered for a moment if she saw a hint of concern behind those scarlet eyes. She exhaled loudly, amused by her own stupidity. No, perhaps she was imagining it.

She nodded, "Tired. Sore. How is-"

Bellatrix felt his hand against her swollen stomach, "The baby is fine." And, realising his moment of affection, he abruptly drew his hand away from her and stood up, "I will let you rest. I just came to make sure that you were recovering. Narcissa said to give you peace and quiet but..." He trailed off from the lie, "I didn't want you to wake up alone."

He nodded to her, but she willed him to kiss her. She wished that he would just kiss her on the forehead as a goodbye.

"My Lord," Bellatrix whispered almost inaudibly. His hand still on the door handle, The Dark Lord turned to face her. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow, "Don't leave."

His hand relaxed on the door handle, his body seeming to want to sit beside her again but before temptation took over him, he had opened the door and his footsteps were echoing along the corridor towards his chambers. Hot tears burst from beneath Bellatrix's heavy eyelids. She wiped them away with the sleeve of her nightdress. A soft hissing noise told her that Nagini was still lying beside her.

The snake raised its ugly triangular head and blinked at her with its narrow yellow eyes. Though Bellatrix couldn't speak parseltongue, she felt as though the snake was trying to tell her something. She raised a gentle hand and stroked the snake's snout. Nagini hissed again, her tail twitching and then, lowering her head, she nuzzled into Bellatrix's side almost like a cat. The tears stopped falling, the heavy sobbing quietened, and Bellatrix continued to stroke the snake with a pale hand as the ice wind gasped through the windows and the snow thundered towards the blanketed ground below.


End file.
